


Life In South Downs

by CalmIsOverrated



Series: Rest of Tomorrow [3]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22093933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalmIsOverrated/pseuds/CalmIsOverrated
Summary: Parts of the lives of Crowley and Aziraphale in the South Downs Cottage
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Rest of Tomorrow [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1470539
Kudos: 19





	1. Sleeping In

**Author's Note:**

> This one was, in fact, inspired by Cottagetober on Instagram. I know it’s a drawing list but I suck at art. I asked and the creator on Instagram @peachiestleaf said it could be used for writing as well :) Unfortunately I am very late!

A heavy overcast had settled over South Downs that morning, casting a shadowy night over the town and promising a long day of heavy rain. It was where two celestial beings still lay, even as the afternoon approached, asleep and contented. Crowley had managed to wrap his long limbs around Aziraphale, tangling and pulling them close together. His snake-like instincts to curl around something were prominent when he slept.

Aziraphale didn’t sleep at all before the Apoca-let’s-not went down. There were too many books to read and never enough time. Crowley very much enjoyed sleeping, and he’d gotten his body used to it. Though he could go several days without feeling the effects of not sleeping. The night after the Apocalypse that didn’t go down Crowley had been dead on his feet with exhaustion, he’d grabbed Aziraphale’s arm and pulled him into bed as well. Eventually Crowley’s soft breathing and heaviness in his limbs dragged him into a deep sleep for the first time.

The angel very much enjoyed sleeping if he could feel the demon besides him. Crowley wasn't the only one who hadn't wanted to be more than five feet apart from him with everything that had gone down. But since Aziraphale was very new to the habit, he was a very light sleeper whereas Crowley could sleep through a train racing past his head. It had happened once, and had nearly discorporated Aziraphale from fear.

The angel stirred as the first few sprinkles landed on the roof of their cottage. He blinked blearily, his mind clouded with sleep. His internal clock told him it was already some time past eleven. He could feel the rain and he hoped the humidity wouldn’t cause any damage to his books. Aziraphale looked to the demon besides him, intending to gently shake him away but stopped in his tracks and his breath caught in his throat. It always did.

Crowley looked too peaceful to disturb, his usually tight expression lined with anxiety and fear was smoothed out in sleep.

And despite the ironic comparison, Crowley looked like an angel. The human perception of one, of course. But beautiful and surreal all the same. Innocent in his sleep, though he knew the demon would fight with him on the subject if he were to voice it outloud. So he quietly thought it.

Aziraphale didn’t think he’d ever get used to this, waking up next to the love of his life for the rest of forever? In the home they had created, in the world they had fought and rebelled for. This was their Heaven, they’d made it themselves.

Aziraphale placed a small kiss on Crowley’s temple and pushed away the hair that fell across his eyes. The other huffed in his sleep and buried himself into the angel’s side. With a yawn he attempted to detangle himself from the demon so he could get ready for the day. Attempted meaning he didn’t get far because in one quick movement he felt Crowley’s arms tighten around his waist and then dragged him back down under their fluffy blankets and into the warmth of their bed.

He knew he didn't imagined the way the demon’s lips quirked up on the side. But Aziraphale conceded in laying back down and pulling the other into his arms, one hand going to where its natural place nowadays was, gently carding through Crowley’s hair, smoothing down the massive cowlick.

It’s getting longer, he noticed as he yawned tiredly and let his eyes fall shut and he breathed in deeply. All the better to braid and run his hands through. He didn’t notice when his hands stopped moving or when his breathing slowed down. And Aziraphale didn’t realize when he fell asleep again, loved and comfortable, or when a hand curled into his own fluffy hair.

So much for getting ready, he would think later on when they finally awoke and couldn’t put off getting things done any longer. Such a wily snake, tempting an angel and ruining plans for the day.


	2. Breakfast (in bed)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can send prompts to me on Tumblr. That kinda goes for any of my fandoms. This took a long time to get around to- whoops. I give up on editing. I’ll fix any mistakes I make later on.

Crowley was a good chef, it just wasn't something he brought up often. He'd taken a few classes in Paris back in the eighteenth century. You had to when you wished to impress a food connoisseur like Aziraphale. Unfortunately he'd never had the chance to test out his cooking skills on the angel, always some fight or they were busy trying to keep their sides off the other’s trail.

It'd been a long time since he'd had a chance to brush up on his techniques so he was very rusty. First he had to decide on what he was doing. Aziraphale appreciated food far more than the demon did and it was something Crowley could do for him. Breakfast, he decided, in bed, for his angel.

He woke up a few hours before Aziraphale did so he could get ready. Crowley made sure he was quiet enough that Aziraphale didn't wake up while he was gone. It was unlikely he would, the angel had been up late that night reorganizing his books. Aziraphale had decided that three in the morning was a fabulous time for a bookshelf makeover. He'd gotten his mortal body used to sleep so he'd crashed about halfway through. Crowley had tutted and dragged his angel back to bed.

Crowley managed to dress and leave the cottage without disturbing the angel. It was still very dark out so he knew the market would be emptier the earlier he went so decided to go there first.

He got in the Bentley and drove into town. He paid for the food and made his way back home. The cottage was still quiet so Crowley grabbed his basket and made his way to the garden in the back.

There were a few low hanging apples Crowley snagged as he walked passed. Even after six thousand years they were still the demon’s favorite fruits, Aziraphale always found that ironic.

Crowley grabbed a few nice bell peppers and herbs that were coming along nicely. The sun hadn’t risen so he knew the angel wouldn’t be up for an hour or so. Plenty of time to make a nice omelette and sausages. He knew the angel had a soft spot for pastries so he’d picked up a few from Aziraphale’s favorite on his way back.

He put on the kettle and got started. It took a few minutes for Crowley to fall into the groove of dicing vegetables, flipping eggs, and turning sausages but when he did the task went by quickly and plated the omelette with the sausages and the pastries with a chef’s precision.

Crowley then quietly made his way to the bedroom, one hand balancing the plate of food and the other with a cup of tea- just how Aziraphale liked it.

He peeked into the room, a bit of a smug smile on his face when Aziraphale looked up in surprise and saw what Crowley was holding.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, sounding so delighted over something Crowley had done that it made his heart swell with pride. Aziraphale leaned over and proceeded to kiss the demon silly.

Crowley feared Aziraphale had forgotten about the food when the angel pulled away and started eating. A minor miracle ensured his food was never cold.

Aziraphale turned to the red-faced demon and asked, “Would you like some, my dear?”

“Ngk,” was Crowley’s only response and it fit rather well.


End file.
